“Since when are you into volleyball?” I ask.
Lucy grins, pulling a kneepad over her foot. “Since now.” Then she shrugs and adds, “Change is good.” I wonder if Jade knows about Lucy’s new athletic dreams.
The white envelope Mom gave me isn’t sealed, so when I flip it over I can see a tri-fold brochure and a slip of white paper bursting out. I remove the paper first. It appears to be a receipt. I silently read the words to myself.
Order Confirmation.
1 x Shadow a Trainer for a Day
Thanks for booking with Dolphina Cove. Your order AT1224L03 is confirmed.
I scan the remainder of the page. Something about a waiver and sun protection; the print is small and dense. I feel a flip in my stomach that reminds me of the first time I remember seeing snow.
I glance across the table at my parents. They watch me with closemouthed grins, like they’re waiting to burst. I return to the words on the page, and more snowy butterflies tingle my stomach.
“What in the world …?” My voice trails off as I take the brochure from inside the envelope. A moment later it hits me, and my jaw actually drops.
“No way!” I shriek. I’m nearly hyperventilating now, but in a good way.
“Way,” Mom confirms.
“Double way,” Dad adds.
“Wheeee!” Lucy adds for good measure. I just now notice she’s been reading over my shoulder.
“Me? Them? For real?” My mind moves too fast to make complete sentences. Mom is smiling big. So is Dad. I feel Lucy’s soft breath on my cheek as she continues to peer at the brochure. “Like, those right there?” I motion to the glossy photograph of a perfect, joyful dolphin. Above the picture, Dolphina Cove: Florida’s Oldest Dolphin Sanctuary is written in spunky turquoise lettering.
“Yep,” Dad says. “A whole day with real, live—”
“Dolphins!” I actually throw my hands in the air, I’m so happy.
“Ouch,” Lucy says, standing up and covering her ear closest to me. “Indoor voice, please.”
“Sorry,” I quickly apologize. Now is not the time for one of her moods. Not when possibly the most amazing thing that has ever happened to me is about to happen.
“I’M GOING TO MEET A DOLPHIN!”
My parents laugh. “Probably more than one,” Mom confirms. “The Trainer for a Day program looks really thorough. You might get to meet them all!”
“I’m going to meet a pod!” I cheer. “A pod is like a family of dolphins, by the way.”
“Obvi,” Lucy acknowledges, pulling another kneepad over her socked foot.
I quickly examine the description beneath the Trainer for a Day heading. Holy moly.
Now I whisper, because some things are too important to yell. “I get to swim with them, too?”
“That’s part of it,” Dad says. He looks almost jealous.
“Thank you thank you thank you!” I shout. “This is the best possible Florida bonus slash early birthday present ever.”
Okay, I’m not going to lie. I knew that dolphin centers or whatever were a thing. But I wasn’t sure if they were actually legit. I don’t live under a rock; I’ve seen a documentary or two and know what went down at SeaWorld with the orcas. But Mom and Dad promised that Dolphina Cove is totally humane, and it’s actually more of a rescue center slash sanctuary than a creepy water-animal entertainment park. The dolphins are kept in an open-water lagoon, not pools or tanks (phew), so it’s just like an extension of their natural habitat.
After my heart rate has decelerated a bit, I check out Dolphina Cove’s website on my phone.
The graphics are a little shaky. Definitely one of the more outdated websites I’ve ever seen. But once all the pictures load, I’m kind of hooked. In every single photo, the dolphin is smiling. I think of the dolphins Lucy and I saw at the beach. I get the feeling I know exactly what dolphin skin feels like when you touch it. I bet it’s rubbery, but also kind of soft. I can’t wait to see if I’m right. This Dolphina Cove thing may be super postcard-y, but it’s also going to be fun.
I’m really ready for some fun.
The next morning Mom and I arrive at Dolphina Cove. Gravel rumbles beneath Beluga’s tires as we pull into the parking lot at eight thirty sharp.
Boy, does Dolphina Cove have one stunning parking lot. Okay, the gravel is pretty standard (and pretty annoying—I don’t want to beat up Sprinkle’s tires before the first day of school), but the lush surroundings make up for it. Bright orange and purple flowers burst from the vines that line the lot’s perimeter. The main building is light pink—the shade of a Brazilian river dolphin, to be exact—with white trim, and looks as if it’s right out of a Caribbean fairy tale.
I snap a few photos with my phone as Mom unloads my chair from the trunk. She’s had more practice, but she’s not as quick as Lucy at putting Sprinkle back together. I want to capture every moment of this experience. My birthday is in exactly forty-eight days. Pretty sure today could be the actual highlight of my pre-teenager life. I want to be certain there’s proper documentation.
Mom pushes me up the ramp to the reception center, then holds the door as I wheel myself inside. A woman sits behind a tall white desk, but I can only see her from the eyes up. She has white-blond hair and a forehead that look like it’s been in the sun too long. She wears a pink visor even though we’re inside. We seem to be the only visitors.
“We’re here for the Trainer for a Day program,” Mom announces to the woman.
“You must be KT,” she exclaims. Her Southern accent is thick. Those will take me a while to get used to; they’re very different from the accent back in Iowa. She stands to introduce herself. “My name is Annie, and we’re so happy to have you here at Dolphina Cove!”
She’s very chirpy. But then again, she does get to hang out around dolphins for a living, so I can’t blame her. I notice her nails are painted light purple. When she smiles, she smiles big. One of her front teeth is slightly gray.
Annie explains a bunch of stuff about sun protection, bathrooms, and a waiver, but I’m hardly listening. I gaze at photographs around the office of happy Dolphina Cove visitors in the water, high-fiving dolphin fins, kissing them on the nose (sanitary?), and generally smiling their butts off. Seriously, I’ve never seen humans look so happy as they do in these pictures. Maybe I’ll get my photo on the wall, too.
“Do I get to do that?” I ask, pointing to a particularly dramatic image of a little kid being pulled through the water by a dolphin’s dorsal fin.
“You are going to have the best day.”
I smile, but it’s not lost on me that she didn’t exactly answer my question. I also notice that she’s looking at Mom as she talks to me. It’s not the first time this has happened.
“Are you excited?” Annie asks in a high pitch.
“Extremely,” I say, making my voice a little lower than usual. I do this sometimes when grown-ups talk to me like I’m a baby. It happens all the time, actually. Mom squeezes my shoulder and I shoot her a smile. It’s okay, my smile says.
“Fantastic. Let’s go out back.” Annie gestures to the exit behind me.
I turn and head toward the glass door that obviously leads to a big deck.
“Oooh wee! You better slow down or you’re going to get a speeding ticket!” Annie bellows jokingly.
“Vroom, vroom,” I reply without looking back. I hear Annie catch her breath before she laughs. When we get to the exit I smack the silver button that opens the doors automatically. While we wait I look up at Annie and smile. As I expected, that seems to put her a bit more at ease, which makes everything easier. Nervous grown-ups are just a handful.
“You’ve got some spunk!” Annie notes as she leads the way out to the deck. “Tara, your trainer, will be up in just a minute.”
Once Annie goes back inside, I give Mom the look, which she returns, and we shake our heads together. I appreciate that Mom lets me handle adults who don’t seem totally able to deal with my chair. It doesn’t me
an we can’t roll our eyes about it after, though. Even in Iowa City, there was always the Walmart cashier or college student who seemed not to remember I was a functioning human being when they interacted with me.
But it’s easy to forget about Annie once I take in the view in front of me. The large deck overlooks a scattering of picnic tables, docks, and what must be the dolphin lagoon. Just beyond the lagoon is open water. A sheltered bench area in front of the dock obscures a complete view of the lagoon, but I can still see the far end and the gulf just past it. Unlike the beach on Sister Secret day, the water is a dark, dense blue. Not murky like Lake MacBride back in Iowa, but definitely not your classic Florida postcard.
Still, I feel like I’m in a Disney movie. The sky is a delightful shade of blue, I’m surrounded by radiant flowers, birds are chirping all around me, and I think I even saw a butterfly. The ocean (the ocean!) is right there, and even though I can’t see them yet, I’m closer than I’ve ever been to not one but multiple dolphins.
I literally pinch myself.
“Pretty cool, huh?” Mom asks, fixing her hat to block the sun from her face. Wynns don’t joke around when it comes to UVA/UVB protection.
“I can’t believe this is my reality right now.”
“I’m glad you’re happy,” Mom says. She looks pretty happy, too. Her hair is a little wavier than usual, and I would never say this to her face, but the crinkles on the sides of her eyes when she smiles aren’t as deep. Maybe it’s the sunshine. Or maybe it’s the close proximity to the world’s most magical creatures (those creatures being dolphins).
I see Tara walking toward us from a building next to the docks. Unlike my encounter with Annie, just the sight of Tara immediately puts me at ease. She’s like the camp counselor I never had, because, well, I’ve never been to camp. Her hair is also white-blond, but probably from the sun and not chemicals. As she nears, I see that light brown freckles dot almost every surface of her skin. She wears leggings, flip-flops, and a navy T-shirt with the Dolphina Cove logo. Solid dolphin trainer uniform. Around her neck, a silver whistle that reminds me of a squid hangs from a blue lanyard, glistening in the sun.
“Hi, I’m Tara! You must be KT,” she says as she approaches. I meet her extended hand for a hearty shake. She looks me in the eye and smiles. “So excited to have you with us today!”
“Me, too!” I smile back without hesitation.
“So, here’s the plan: I’ll show you around a little bit, and then we’ll get down to business. We’ll spend the first part of our time together prepping for a training session so you can see what goes on behind the scenes. Then we’ll get you in the water for a swim at the very end. How does that sound?”
“Great! The best! Let’s do it!”
Hearing the words in the water for a swim makes it feel more real. My mind is moving a mile a minute. I have a gazillion questions and I also sort of want to tell Tara the tons of stuff I already know about dolphins.
“Tara, if it’s okay, I’ll let you guys do your thing while I get some work done here on the picnic tables,” Mom says with a wink in my direction.
Mom is the best. Like Cady and Kaytee, she’s good at reading my mind. I’m glad that the majority of this day will be all my own. Well, and Tara’s. And ALL THE DOLPHINS I’M ABOUT TO MEET AND SWIM WITH AND BEFRIEND!
Nope, it hasn’t gotten old yet.
“Absolutely, Mrs. Wynn. We’ll make sure to grab you before the swim so you can watch and take pictures.”
“And videos!”
“And videos,” Mom assures me. “Have the best time, KT Lady.”
With that, Tara and I chitchat as I follow her down a concrete path toward the dock.
“So, do you want to be a dolphin trainer one day?”
I think about it for a second. “I’m not sure.” Honestly, I’d never considered it before. My main goal was just to find a way to hang out with them. “When did you know that’s what you wanted to do?”
“I caught the dolphin bug when I was a little kid after a family trip to a sanctuary in Hawaii. I just thought they were so cool and wanted to learn everything I could about them.”
“Totally! I visited the Chicago aquarium for the first time when I was in second grade and was instantly obsessed.” I don’t need to explain why. It feels pretty obvious to me why dolphins are the absolute best, and I’m 1,000 percent positive Tara gets it, too. “So you had to do all sorts of marine biology stuff in college?”
“Actually, I was a psychology major.”
“No way! My mom’s a psychology teacher! Um, I mean, professor.” She’d kill me if she heard that mistake. Fair enough. She spent like a gazillion years in school to earn her professor title.
“Yeah, working with marine mammals is actually a lot about studying behavior and reading and interpreting actions.” Tara pauses and turns to look back at me. “Watch that break in the sidewalk. Do you need help getting over it?” Tara asks, referring to what could only be described as a canyon in the cement.
“No thanks, I got it.”
“Cool.” Tara turns back around and continues down the path. I like Tara already. I give myself a wind-up wheel (that’s a technical term meaning an extra effort of speed before an obstacle like a bump, hill, or, in this case, a sidewalk canyon, to make the maneuver more manageable) and glide over the crack, no problem.
“Anyway, as you’ll see, most of the work we do with dolphins is about forming relationships, intuiting the animal’s needs, and shaping their behavior in a positive way. We sort all their meals and feed them, but aren’t the ones to determine their individualized dietary requirements, for example.”
“Gotcha,” I say. I can’t wait to tell Mom that with everything she knows about psychology, she could be a professionally trained slash certified dolphin expert in no time. Maybe it runs in the family.
Once we arrive at the dock, I lock my wheels a few feet from the edge and peer into the dark water. The lagoon is smaller than a football field—no, smaller than half a football field, actually. To my left, another part of the dock juts into the water like a peninsula, perpendicular to the one we’re on, serving as a pathway so trainers or visitors can access most of the lagoon, I guess. What looks like a short fence covered in shrubs and swampy weeds separates the outer edge of the lagoon from open water. The same beautiful flowers from the parking lot line the perimeter. It’s very tranquil. Too tranquil?
“Where are they?” I ask. I sense movement beneath the surface of the water, but can’t see anything. Not yet. “Are they sleeping?” That’s the only explanation I can think of. Or hiding.
“Oh no, they’re just playing hard to get,” Tara says, raising the volume of her voice as if she’s talking both to me and all the invisible dolphins.
“How deep is this water?” I ask. I was expecting it to be crystal clear. Like the postcards and the pool at the Iowa City YMCA where I learned to swim.
“Oh, it’s a good twenty feet. Plenty of depth for the animals to get enough exercise.”
“What’s down there?” I wonder aloud.
“Same as the ocean floor.” I’m not familiar with the ocean floor. “Seaweed, plants. Open ocean water can come in and out of the lagoon with the tides, as well as fish.”
“Fish are in the lagoon, too?” I strain to see. X-ray vision would be cool at a time like this.
“Sure. We want to maintain as organic an environment as possible for the animals. Because we feed them and reward their behavior with food, they rarely hunt, but there are fish for them to eat if they’d like. But they tend to get lazy.”
Hunt is the main word that sticks out. I never thought of dolphins as hunters. Just adorable creatures that glide through aqua water and jump in the air with glee. This is different than what I imagined. Not necessarily less postcard-y. Maybe just a different postcard.
“Just over there”—Tara points to the hedge fence on the far end of the lagoon—“is the gulf. As I mentioned, small fish and marine life can come and go, so
this space really mimics their natural habitat.”
“Sweet.”
“Let’s see who’s ready to play …” Tara looks around the lagoon. “Luna, Sammy, Ginger, don’t be shy!”
Evidence of a slight current ripples the surface of the water, but no dolphins yet. I soften my focus so I can take in the entire lagoon at once. I have no idea where the first one will pop up, and I don’t want to miss it.
And then it happens. A dorsal fin slices through the surface of the water the length of two Belugas in front of me. Then another.
They’re so close!
“Luna, there you are, baby,” Tara says in the tone one might use talking to a toddler. Except she’s basically screaming, which somehow makes the cooing voice not annoying.
I let my eyes follow where I imagine Luna and the other fin have swum. It seemed like they were circling back to the far end. I use my arms to push myself a little higher in my chair when it finally happens.
First, its nose and then its head burst through the surface. Just like in Flipper and every cartoon and movie combined, a dolphin bobs right in front of us, making that high-pitched clicking sound that I know for sure is laughing.
I, in turn, start to laugh uncontrollably. Like Luna is tickling my heart. Once I start, I can’t stop. It’s amazing.
“Luna, you are just the cutest, aren’t you?” Tara exclaims, as if she, too, is seeing her for the first time. “Her daughter, Sammy, is usually right behind. They’re still very attached— Oh, there she is!”
Another dolphin that basically looks like Luna but a tiny bit smaller swims up. A moment later they dip back underwater, tails making small splashes as they go.
“Oh, okay, Sammy, not being friendly today, I see.” Tara laughs again. “I still love you!” She turns her attention back my way and resumes her talking-to-a-human voice. “We have seven dolphins living with us at Dolphina Cove right now. The youngest calf is about one, and the most mature female is almost thirteen.”
“Like me!” I announce.
“Oh, cool, birthday coming up?”
Swimming With Dolphins Page 3